


August

by TeekiJane



Series: A Year Apart [1]
Category: Baby-Sitters Club - Ann M. Martin
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-08
Updated: 2014-02-21
Packaged: 2018-01-11 14:54:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1174412
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeekiJane/pseuds/TeekiJane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeff returns to California to start his college career.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Overdue Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's just a conversation that's been waiting a summer too long. Okay, maybe a couple conversations.

To: byronp86  
From: superjeff15  
Subject: home  
Byron, i'm back at my dad’s in palo city. i told him all about us. we'll see how stuff goes now, but it can only be better than it was.  
love u,  
Jeff

Dawn and I returned to California on a Thursday in the middle of August. Our stepmother and little sister picked us up at the airport. I hadn’t seen Carol and Gracie in several months. Carol gave me a tight hug, which I gratefully returned. “Welcome home,” she said. 

I was debating whether I was really home when Gracie began talking. “Guess what, Jeff?” she chirped. “My soccer team is undefeated! Me and Mackenzie found a cave in the park! I got some new shoes! And…” 

She babbled on and on, ending every statement with an exclamation point. I looked over at Dawn and Carol, who were both trying not to laugh. Gracie paused to take a breath and Carol jumped in. “Sweetie,” she said to Gracie, “Why don’t we let Jeff and Dawn talk a little bit? I’m sure they want to hear all about everything, but we have a long car ride coming up. You’ll have plenty of time to share.” 

Gracie grinned at me and made a show of zippering her lips. Carol rolled her eyes over her daughter’s head. The four of us were now standing in front of the baggage carousel. Dawn, who was wearing a peasant blouse and a pair of faded jeans, grabbed her giant duffel bag before she started talking. “Well, I had a great trip,” she told Carol. “Sunny is having a blast in New York and it was really good to see her again. I even had a good time in Stoneybrook. I got to spend time with this one.” She gave me a quick hug with one arm. “And I wound up having a really good talk with Mary Anne. Even though I still think she was nuts for getting married, she and Pete are actually doing pretty well.” 

Carol spotted my suitcase before I did. “What about you, Jeff?” she asked as she pulled it off the carousel. 

I shrugged. I wasn’t sure how to respond to that question, but Dawn knew. She grinned. “He got himself a boyfriend,” she teased. 

Gracie hurriedly unzipped her mouth. “Jeff,” she chastised, “Boys have girlfriends, not boyfriends.” 

Carol drew in a breath, trying to figure out how to reply to that. “Not always, Grace,” she pointed out diplomatically. 

“Oh, right,” Gracie said, nodding emphatically. “Some people are gay. That means that boys like boys and girls like girls.” I was wondering where she’d learned that. “Are you gay, Jeff?” 

I knew we were going to have to have this talk someday, but I hadn’t expected to have it in the middle of the airport. “I like both boys _and_ girls,” I told her. She scrunched her face up, not quite understanding. “Right now, though, I have a boyfriend.” 

Carol was watching this all carefully. Gracie finally nodded and took my hand. “What’s your boyfriend’s name?” 

“Byron.” 

“And is he nice?” 

We were almost to the short-term parking by now. “Of course, silly,” I told her. “I wouldn’t date a mean person.” 

Gracie grinned. “Okay then. Can we talk about me again now?” 

We all laughed, and that’s what we did the rest of the way home. 

*** 

I hadn’t known what to say to Carol about how my summer had gone because I hadn’t been quite sure how she was going to respond to, well, everything. She hadn’t stated an opinion on my announcement that Byron and I were planning to go to prom together, and that was the last thing I’d told my California family. I hadn’t told them how magical prom had been, or how happy I’d been just at the thought of heading back to Stoneybrook to see Byron again. Or that, by the time I’d flown back to Palo City that Sunday, I’d already decided that I needed to ask Byron to label our relationship and say he was my boyfriend. I hadn’t spoken to Dad or Carol all summer, even though I’d been hoping that one of them would call. 

Gracie had called me at one point, though, to share the vital information that the tadpoles she’d caught in the spring and kept in a terrarium in her bedroom had sprouted legs and were now full-fledged frogs. Based upon the time of day she called me, I don’t think Dad and Carol were even aware that she was using the phone. I had been so glad to hear from her anyway. Good old Grace—young and innocent enough that she didn’t judge or even notice that the last month I’d spent at home had been frosty and awkward. 

Mrs. Bruen was making dinner when we arrived at the house. She greeted us warmly and then returned to her task at hand—a delicious looking casserole. Gracie pulled up a chair and demanded to be given a job, so she was given a salad to make, after she washed her hands. 

Dawn retreated right away to her bedroom and her phone, calling one of her roommates to arrange the details of moving back in. That left Carol and me alone in the living room. “When do classes start for you?” she asked. 

“Wednesday,” I replied with a grimace. A little less than a week before I was a college student. “I’m thinking I’ll go up to campus tomorrow, get a feel for where my classes are held, and buy my books.” 

“Smart,” Carol observed. She rubbed her temples tiredly. “Better to get all that done before your first day, when everything is crazy and chaotic and overwhelming.” 

Byron was rubbing off on me; he’d had the route to all his classes drilled in his head for almost a month, and his books had come by the mail two weeks ago. As much as I wanted to do well in college for my own future, I wanted to do it even more so he’d be proud of me. I watched Carol sit down on the couch, once again rubbing her temples. “Is everything okay?” I asked her. 

Carol looked up at me. “Oh, everything’s fine. I’ve just been having a lot of headaches recently. I’m not sure if it’s tension or if I need glasses." 

Tension. I’m sure I’d been a source of a least a fair share of _that_. I ventured forward cautiously. “Is everything okay between you and me?” 

She seemed surprised. “Of course, Jeffers,” she said, whipping out a childhood nickname she saved these days only for times when she was worried about me. “Things have always been okay between you and me.” She sighed. “I know it seems like I’ve been distant, but I’ve found that when your father is unhappy or dissatisfied with you or Dawn, it’s best for me to just step back and let him be, no matter how much I want to step in on your behalf.” 

I felt a little bit better for a moment, but it quickly went away. “On a scale of one to ten, how unhappy and dissatisfied is Dad with me right now?” 

She wrinkled her nose briefly. “I’m not sure. He was definitely up there near the top shortly after you left, but that wore off. I never could quite figure out what was bugging him, anyway.” 

“Mom said…” I was uneasy about completing that statement. Mom and Carol had only met once and while they’d been civil to each other, it’d been an awkward moment. “Mom said Dad doesn’t like uncertainties and that’s why he got so upset about everything.” 

Carol thought about it for a moment and she smiled. “Your mom might be right about that. Whatever his problem was, though, I’d suggest you ask _him_ about it.” 

I nodded. “When do you think I should talk to him?” 

“That’s an easy one,” Carol said as she stood back up from the couch. “I’ll ask Dawn to get Grace into bed tonight. They’ll both love that. That’ll leave you, me and your dad alone for the evening.” 

*** 

Dawn was more than willing to go along with our plan, and even though she didn’t know there was a plan, Gracie was thrilled. Usually, she argues and whines when told it’s time to get ready for bed, but that night she ran off, excited that Dawn would be tucking her in and reading to her. 

Dinner had been a little awkward. Dad had glanced at me, saying hello, and then had barely spoken to me the rest of the meal. I think the most he said to me was, “Please pass the iced tea.” I’d never thought I’d long for the days of listening to Richard babble about the finer points of case law. 

Dawn had attempted to break the tension by talking about moving back to her apartment. “Dad,” she’d teased, “I’m going to need some new furniture for my bedroom.” 

“Oh?” 

“Well, I definitely need a new lamp because _someone_ ,” she threw a look over at Gracie, “stole my old one. But that means I’ll probably need a new nightstand to go with it, and if that doesn’t match the rest of my furniture, I’ll need a new computer desk, dresser and possibly even a new bed frame. And if I have a new bed frame, I’ll definitely need a new mattress…” 

She’d been kidding about everything but the lamp, but Dad gave her enough money to purchase a lamp and some new bedding. Dawn left the table, satisfied, and Gracie ran off to watch “her show” before she had to get ready for bed. That left me alone with Dad and Carol, just like we’d planned. Carol started things off. “Jeff and I had a good talk this afternoon, Jack,” she told Dad. 

Dad had picked up the newspaper, but he set it back down. “Can’t Jeff speak for himself?” he asked Carol, but he was looking at me. 

“Of course he can,” Carol went on before I could reply. “I’m just letting you know where _we_ stand before you figure out where _you_ stand. I support Jeff one-hundred percent in his decisions he’s making right now in his life, no matter how you may feel about them.” 

Dad was still looking at me. “And what kinds of decisions are those, son?” he asked. 

I decided to start with those things I knew he would find positive. “I’ve decided to go for a teaching degree,” I announced. “I want to finish out two years in the community college and be prepared to transfer straight into the degree program at one of the state schools.” I didn’t mention that I was hoping to move somewhere closer to Byron—even back to Connecticut, although that wasn’t that close to him—for the second year. 

“That sounds reasonable,” Dad said in an even tone. I was having a very hard time reading him at all. “Anything else?” 

Now for the hard part. “You told me, back when I asked for permission to go to prom with Byron, that I should keep you updated when I decided ‘what I am.’” I took a deep breath. “I am bisexual. I’ve never really wanted to date a guy before this year, but I do find them attractive sometimes. But Byron and I have made a commitment to each other. We are hoping to make this relationship work long distance. I hope you can respect that.” 

Dad had been watching me calmly through that whole speech. “Okay, then,” he said. 

I was nearly frantic. “Okay?” I repeated, the pitch of my voice rising. “Okay? When we spoke this spring, you were distinctly not okay with me going to prom with Byron.” 

“No,” Dad corrected, “what I was ‘not okay’ with was the fact that you were waffling. I couldn’t understand where you were coming from. Some time and some distance helped with that. I eventually realized that not knowing was just as hard—harder—for you than it was for me.” He stood up and put his hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry that I made you feel like I wasn’t going to support you.” 

Huh. Mom had essentially been right about Dad. I guess you can’t be married to a man for a dozen or more years and not learn _something_ about him. As much as I had been irritated with my dad for his attitude and how he’d treated me, I was willing to give him another chance—especially if I had to live with him. “It’s in the past,” I said, trying to sound more sure of that statement than I really was. “I guess we can start over fresh.” 

“Sounds like a good plan,” Carol observed. 

Dad still had his hand on my shoulder. “Your birthday’s in a few days,” he pointed out. “You’ll be a legal adult at last, and because of that, I’ve decided that some new policies are in order here. You no longer have a curfew, but if you plan to stay out overnight, you should let someone else know. The only other thing we ask is that you model proper behavior for Grace at all times. If you’re unable to do that, we’ll have to ask you go elsewhere—whether that means moving out or having to be hospitalized again.” 

I made a face. “I’ve been having some trouble on and off with my…condition,” I admitted. Dad and Carol looked at each other, not quite understanding. “My doctor in Connecticut had to keep adjusting my medication. I didn’t have any problems like the ones last winter, but I was kinda hard to deal with for a while.” 

“We’ll make you a deal,” Dad said after a moment of processing. “If you are feeling…off…you need to tell us. And then we’ll know to give you extra consideration and whatever else you need. Sound fair?” He held out his hand. 

I didn’t even pause to consider before I agreed. I vigorously shook his hand. I couldn’t help but smile. 

***

I went to my room and powered up my computer. I’d made the decision when I’d left California to leave as much stuff as possible behind. That meant, among other things, that I hadn’t checked my MyFriends page all summer long. I logged into it now. Before I even bothered trying to catch up on everything my 400 friends had done all summer long, I edited my personal information to indicate I was bisexual, and added that I was in a relationship. I figured it was the easiest way to let most people know. It meant a lot less confrontation. 

I then checked under the friend request area. At any given time, there are usually several—friends of friends and people I’ve met only once or twice. I usually wait a few months and see if I can remember who they are before I accept or decline the requests. 

But there were a few friend requests that I knew were waiting for me that I had to accept right away. I had to recognize them by photos because no one on MyFriends ever uses their real name. The one calling himself #1 Red Sox Fan with the photo of a guy sitting on top of a crappy little Honda—posing as if it were a sports car—had to be Adam. I approved his request first. The next one was totally obvious. The screen name was Finally Made it to Florida! with a photo of him wearing a University of Florida t-shirt, so I knew it was Jordan. The next one, which had a drawing of a cat and said A Song Lyric Waiting to Happen, I almost passed up…until I went to the account and saw an actual photo and realized it was Haley. I found requests from a couple of coworkers and a few other people from Stoneybrook I’d given my online name to, and I added them as well. 

Now there was only one person missing. Byron had told me that he’d set a page up before he left for school so that he could keep in touch with people—mostly, his brothers, sisters, Hay and me. He’d said there hadn’t been a point in him setting up an account before. But I looked at Haley’s account and there he was, sort of. He hadn’t put a photo on there yet or filled out most of the information. But he’d picked a screen name that I was quite fond of. It said, Looking Forward…

I sent him a friend request of my own, looking forward myself to the day when I could say on the site that we were in a relationship. Before I could go through the rest of the information, a chat box popped up on my screen. Someone named High Times in Palo City sent me a message. “SCHAFER!” It said. “U came back from the dead!” 

Since a lot of my friends change their screen names a lot, I checked the link and found out it was Oliver. We’d known each other since kindergarten and had been friends on and off ever since. “Yup,” I typed out. “im back from ct. u still going to pcc? wanna stop by campus tomorrow with me n get books n look around n shit?” 

Oliver took some time before he replied, and even then, he didn’t answer the question. “Ur a real joker,” he finally said. “I just saw wut u put for preference. bisexual? hilarious. n who u in a relationship with? ur hand?” 

I sighed. I’d hoped announcing my news on MyFriends would be easier than telling everyone one at a time, but obviously it wasn’t going to work on everyone. “no,” I responded, wishing my typing could indicate my attitude and not just my words. “i got a new man in my life. his names byron n ive known him since we were kids.” 

There was a very long pause before he replied. “ur dating a dude?” 

“yup. im bisexual, like i posted.” 

The next pause was even longer. “oh well cool bro. long as ur happy right? i gotta go. later.” 

I shook my head. I couldn’t tell if Oliver meant it or not. He could have been serious, or kidding, or even thought _I_ was kidding. He’d sent me an email over the summer and we were pretty sure we had English class together starting in a few days, so I guess I was going to find out. 

I logged into my email and sent a quick note to Byron, something I’d vowed to myself I would do every night. It was almost like sending him a good night kiss.


	2. Finally Legal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> What's the point of being an adult if no one even remembers?

Je11y6ean_h: So how’s college?  
Superjeff15: dunno, havnt started yet. got my books tho  
Je11y6ean_h: When’s the big day?  
Superjeff15: two days. oh joy of joys  
Je11y6ean_h: So is today your birthday or was it yesterday?  
Superjeff15: today. thanks 4 remembering.  
Je11y6ean_h: No problem. Happy birthday! You bought your ciggies and lotto ticket yet?  
Superjeff15: yeah. i won another free lotto ticket. i gave that to the homeless guy too. hope he remembers me if he wins a million dollars.

My eighteenth birthday fell on a Monday. I’d always imagined a little more fanfare when I became an adult—maybe a party with a bunch of friends, or at least a dinner out with someone special. Instead, my friends were scattered, heading off to college (or in a few cases, the military). And my someone special was on the opposite side of the country. I was going to have a quiet dinner with Dad, Carol and Gracie and call it a night. 

It almost felt as if everyone had forgotten what a milestone this was. I hadn’t heard from anyone until Haley sent me an IM in the early afternoon. We were still talking a short time later when I went to look at her MyFriends page again. “hey!” I posted, offended. I hadn’t even been gone from the eastern seaboard for a week and people were already leaving me out of stuff. “whats this about u being in a relationship?” 

“Didn’t I tell you?” she replied. “I stopped being an ass and apologized to Jordan. He was good enough to take me back.” 

Well, I hadn’t expected that. I’d figured the two of them would eventually just accept the breakup and go back to being friends…or just avoid each other for the next few summers until they each stopped coming home. But I guess their feelings were stronger than I’d thought. Either that or I was just a pessimist. Jordan was in the first place on her friend list. I clicked on his profile and saw that Hay was in his top friend spot as well. He’d posted a new photo of himself. The last one—the one of him wearing the Florida shirt—had been taken shortly after he’d left. He hadn’t cut his hair all summer long and it was a messy mop. I took a good look at it again and realized he looked sad despite the happiness of his much anticipated arrival. In the new picture he’d gotten a haircut—a buzz cut. He looked like _he_ was the one headed off to the military. But more than that—he was grinning like he’d never frowned in his life. “that’s awesome,” I posted, hoping this meant she was back to her usual sunny self as well. 

She had to go to work a short time later, leaving me alone with my thoughts. Instead of being pathetic, which is what I wanted to do, I picked up my school books and started thumbing through them. Biology: plants and animals and all the other kingdoms I couldn’t remember. Pretty similar to high school, so I was hoping that wouldn’t be too hard. English: I’d been speaking _that_ all my life, right? Piece of cake. Political science: same as the government class I’d taken the last term in high school. Algebra: I’d taken that in eighth grade, and I was actually pretty decent at math. And psychology. I wasn’t sure about that one, but I was a head case, so it would be learning about myself a bit, so I was actually interested in that class most of all. 

It took me a few minutes to realize that looking through my school books when I didn’t have to was even more pathetic than wallowing in self-pity. I didn’t stop, though. I organized the books to start getting ready for class on Wednesday. I put the biology and composition book in one pile. I had found a bag on my desk that morning full of school supplies Carol had picked up over the summer. I filled five binders with notebook paper and put two with those books. Those were my Tuesday-Thursday classes. I put the other three binders and books in my school bag, and filled the front pocket with pencils, pens, a new calculator and a few other things Carol had bought me. Then I stuck a couple dollar bills and some change into the pocket for snacks and drinks between classes and slid my new student ID in with them. I couldn’t think of anything else I needed to do for school, so I headed to the living room. 

Gracie was watching SpongeBob. “Happy birthday, Jeff!” she told me for the sixth time that day. At least _someone_ was excited about my birthday. 

She had a bowl of pita chips that she was dipping in hummus. I grabbed a few out of her lap and ate them dry. “Gracie,” I asked her, “Want to help me have a birthday adventure?” 

Well, that was a stupid question. She’s seven, loves surprises and adventures, and especially loves birthdays. Gracie turned away from the television. “What kind of adventure?” 

I didn’t know what I had planned until the words came out of my mouth. “We’ll go to the store and get me a cell phone.” I’d wanted one for a while, and now that I was eighteen, I could get my own plan. 

Grace looked skeptical. “That’s not very adventurous,” she said, disdainfully. 

I thought for a moment. “Then we can go to an ice cream shop we’ve never been to before and try some flavors of ice cream we’ve never eaten.” 

She was more interested now. “Can we eat them in your car?” she asked. 

I chuckled. I never could understand Gracie’s obsession with wanting to eat ice cream in the car, other than it’s something that Carol will never let her do. “Sure. And after that, we’ll decide what we want to do next. That’s why it’s an adventure—we don’t have a plan.” 

Gracie ran to put on her shoes. I told Mrs. Bruen where we were going and left a note on the fridge for Dad and Carol, in case they got home before we did. 

Picking out a cell phone plan was harder and took longer than I expected. It was a lot more expensive than I had thought it was going to be too. Gracie started getting antsy so I finally just decided that I’d have to come back another day. The people at the cell phone store were probably happy to see us go, since I couldn’t make up my mind and Grace had found a way to set off the alarms on about seven cell phone displays while I wasn’t paying attention to her. 

We found a 31 flavors ice cream place and went inside. Gracie, slowly and methodically, using all the might of her almost-second grade reading skill, read all the names of the ice creams. I finally picked out a peanut butter cone, but she insisted on the most disgusting looking flavor on the menu: cotton candy. “Mommy would _never_ let me eat this one,” she said stubbornly when I tried to talk her out of it. It was hot pink and blue and did not look like anything found in nature. Watching her eat it made me slightly nauseous, so it was a good thing I was driving most of the time. 

Because Gracie had been as good as it was possible for her to be during the first part of our adventure, I let her pick our next stop. She dragged me out to the park so she could show me the cave she and her friend Mackenzie had discovered. I followed her through the wooded part of the park, trying to pretend I didn’t know where we were headed. Sure enough, she took a left under the largest tree in the area and pushed past some bushes and there it was. “Look, Jeff!” she exclaimed. “I think we’re the first people to ever see this.” 

I stifled a smile and nodded seriously at her. My friend Philip and I had found that cave when we were eleven and we’d thought the same thing…until we’d found beer bottles in it the next time we’d gone there. It had been the first place I’d tried a cigarette and one of the first places I’d had a drink. It had also been where I’d taken a few girls back my freshman year of high school in order to…experiment. Of course, I didn’t tell Gracie any of that. “Wow, this is so cool,” I said instead, squinting into the darkness. I could see that the cave was still being used for…private parties. Among the other garbage that Grace had apparently not noticed was a couple of used condoms. 

She beamed. “Me and Mackenzie are going to make this our clubhouse,” she said proudly. 

I cringed. This cave wasn’t a good hangout for a couple of seven year olds, especially with the joints and condoms and other assorted garbage in there. I really didn’t want my sister spending time there. “How do you know that monsters don’t live in here?” I asked her, pretending to be scared. 

She folded her arms across the front of her body and looked cross. Carol had braided Gracie’s long brown hair that morning and tied a blue ribbon at the end. She was wearing a pair of overall shorts over a pink and white striped shirt. Despite the fact that she is a brunette while Dawn is blonde, my two sisters look a lot alike, never more so than when Gracie duplicates some of Dawn’s mannerisms like that. “Je-eff,” she said, sounding irritated. “There’s no such thing as monsters.” 

I had to smile a little bit at that. Dawn still kinda believes in ghosts and spirits even though she’s twenty-one, and here was Gracie telling me that spookies and boogey-men don’t exist. “Well, what about bears? That looks like bear poop in the corner.” 

I was only pointing at a crumpled paper bag, but in the faded light inside the cave, it could have been anything brown. Gracie took an unconscious step backwards. Amazing how shifting the fear from an imaginary creature to a real one caused a total change in her behavior. Her face crumpled. “Bears?” she repeated. 

I nodded, glad my ruse was working. “I wouldn’t go in there right now. Let’s get Daddy to come back and look it over and make sure that no bears live here before you and Mackenzie make it your clubhouse, okay?” 

After that, Gracie couldn’t get out of the park fast enough. She lost interest in our adventure and just wanted to get back home to the safety of her comfort zone. When we arrived back at the house, Carol was already home, despite the fact that it was several hours before when she usually got off work. Grace ran straight to her mother. “Mommy! Jeff and I saw a bear!” she cried. 

Carol raised her eyebrows at me and I shook my head. She smiled, her eyes twinkling. “Did you, now?” she asked Gracie. “Looks like you also had some…interesting…ice cream,” Carol added, pointing to the purpley-gray stain on her daughter’s shirt. 

Grace grimaced. “It was really good,” she said tentatively, hoping that the mess she made would be more forgivable that way. 

“C’mon, Miss Messy,” Carol said, putting her hand on Gracie’s shoulder, “Let’s get you cleaned up.” Gracie scowled but followed willingly. Just before they left the room, Carol stopped. “Oh, Jeff,” she said in remembrance, “You have some mail on the counter.” 

I picked up the pile of envelops and dug through them. I found two with my name on them and pulled them out of the pile. Both were postmarked Stamford, Connecticut, and I recognized both of the return addresses. I opened the one from my mom first. The card was pretty standard. In fact, it might have been identical to the one she’d sent me last year. But inside was a check for five hundred dollars. “Jeff,” the card said, “You have grown up so much better than I ever thought you would. I’m proud to have you as my son. Love, Mom and Richard.” 

I held the check up, marveling over it for a moment, but then turned to the other envelop. Hurriedly I opened it. The card was a serious one, talking about the hopes and dreams that a new year could bring. Inside, in his careful writing were the words, “You’ve only been gone for twenty-four hours, but I miss you already. I’ll call you. Byron.” After that, he’d added a lopsided heart. 

I couldn’t decide which card meant more to me. I took them both, stuffing the check in my pocket, and set them up on top of my desk. I was looking them over a second time when Carol knocked on my door. “I’m headed out for a little while again. Mrs. Bruen went to the grocery store to grab a few things and then she’s heading home early today. Do you mind keeping an eye on Gracie for a while again? I told her to stay on the property, so you really don’t have to watch her. Just check up on her every now and then.” 

I nodded distractedly and Carol came inside my room. “Everything okay, Jeffers?” 

I nodded again. “I was…” I began, and then stopped. I wasn’t so sure how I wanted to proceed after that. “I was just beginning to think that everyone had forgotten me,” I said lamely. 

“Forgotten you?” she repeated, sitting on my bed so that we were almost level. 

“Yeah. Before these cards came, I’d had one person outside of this house wish me a happy birthday. I thought maybe it was out of sight, out of mind with my friends.” 

Carol came over and gave me a one-armed hug. “You’re not so easy to forget,” she pointed out. “Your birthday is not over yet. I bet you by the end of the day, you’ll feel a little better about the situation.” 

I already did feel better. I was waiting anxiously for Byron’s phone call; I didn’t have his phone number because he hadn’t known what it was before he’d left for school. We hadn’t spoken since Thursday morning. “Byron’s going to call me tonight. It’s the first time I’ve heard from him since he left for school.” 

“See?” she said. She gave me another squeeze and then let go. “I’m not sure what exactly is bothering you, but it’s not like you to trust people so little. Give your friends a chance.” When she got to the doorway, she turned back to me. “I should be home within the hour, okay?” 

*** 

Carol was true to her word. Even better, when Dad came home, he brought a bag full of Thai food that smelled delicious. “Did you have a good day?” Dad asked me. We were still a little tentative with each other, but things were starting to get back to normal—whatever normal was. 

Gracie answered on my behalf. “We saw a bear,” she told Dad. 

Dad looked surprised. “And where did you see a bear?” 

“In my cave. Jeff says you need to go make sure it’s safe.” 

He raised his eyebrows. “Well, I guess Jeff and I will have to take care of that this weekend then, won’t we?” The look on his face said he knew I’d lied to Grace, but he wasn’t sure why. 

“Absolutely,” I replied lightly, as if a bear roaming around Palo City was no big deal. 

Grace chatted on through the whole meal, randomly throwing out facts about bears she’d learned from a website we’d looked at together that afternoon. Finally, she knelt on her chair so she was up higher and more even with the rest of us. “Did Mrs. Bruen make Jeff a birthday cake?” she asked. 

Dad and Carol looked at each other. “Yes,” Carol said finally, “but I’m not certain you should have any, since you ate all that ice cream earlier today.” 

“Mommy,” Gracie said sternly, “It’s a birthday!” 

The phone rang before anyone could reply to that. I jumped up, hoping it was Byron, and picked up the phone. “Hello!” I practically exclaimed. 

“I didn’t know you’d be so excited to hear from me,” Mom said on the other end of the line. 

I sagged. “How are you, Mom?” I asked. 

Carol and Dad were watching me carefully as I tried not to sound too unenthusiastic. I squirmed under their gaze, so I took the phone down to my bedroom and continued the conversation. It had been less than a week since we’d seen each other, so we didn’t really have too much to talk about. Ten minutes later, I’d said goodbye to both her and Richard, when Mom tossed out one more piece of information. “Mary Anne and Pete were over for dinner yesterday,” she told me, “and Mary Anne said that she sent you a package in the mail, but she was late getting it out, so it won’t arrive until tomorrow at the earliest.” 

I was surprised by that. Usually, Mary Anne just sends me a card, but we _had_ spent more time together this summer than the past few years combined. I’d been surprised to find that I actually liked my stepsister as a person and not just a family member. 

Carol knocked on my door just after I hung up. “Did you want us to wait for cake, or are you okay if we go ahead and eat? I think Gracie’s about to have a conniption fit out there.” 

I held the phone out. “I’m actually off the phone for now,” I said glumly. 

“Not Byron?” 

“No. Definitely not Byron.” 

She squeezed my shoulder. “He’ll call. Don’t worry.” 

I chuckled, disbelieving. “You’ve never even met Byron,” I observed. 

“No, but I know you. You wouldn’t put this much faith in someone who didn’t deserve it.” 

I hadn’t actually worried that By wouldn’t call, but it was really nice to hear Carol saying such nice things about my judgment. 

To appease Gracie, we’d had to stick a candle on my cake and I’d waited patiently while everyone sang happy birthday to me. She sat there, on pins and needles, waiting for me to taste the cake and proclaim it was good before she was willing to eat it. I’d set the phone down next to my elbow and I’d just cut a bite-sized piece of cake off when the phone rang. I set the cake down as Grace groaned loudly and I answered the phone. 

It was Byron. “Did I call at a bad time?” he asked. 

“No, of course not,” I said. I could feel myself grinning. “Can I put you on hold for just a moment?” I didn’t wait for him to answer; I just put the phone down, picked up my fork and shoveled in a mouthful of cake. “Mmm! I exclaimed for Gracie’s benefit. “It’s delicious! Have some!” 

She picked up her fork and started eating the cake as Dad and Carol exchanged an amused glance. I pulled the phone back up to my ear. “Sorry about that,” I told By. 

“No problem,” he said. I could hear a lot of noise going on in the background in his dorm. “How’s your birthday been?” 

I didn’t even say anything to my family; I just took the phone back to my bedroom and shut the door tightly. “Pretty lame until now. You’re always the highlight of my day, you know that?” 

“Must have had a couple of dark days then,” he said after a pause. I obviously couldn’t see him, but I had a feeling he was blushing. “Get any good presents or anything?” 

“Mom sent me a check for a nice chunk of change. Dad and Carol haven’t given me anything yet. Dawn said she has something from Peru for me ‘somewhere’ and she’ll give it to me when she finds it. Mary Anne sent me a package, but I haven’t gotten it yet.” I sat on my bed, leaning against the wall. “But my best gift so far—aside from this call, I mean—was that Gracie gave me a frog. She said he’s her favorite, so she named it after me.” 

He chuckled. “That’s sweet. It almost makes me wish my sisters were little again.” 

The hubbub in the background got louder. “How’s dorm life so far?” I asked him. 

“Chaotic. Everyone seems pretty nice so far though. There are these two girls who live across the hall that are super nice. They’re townies, so they offered to show Julio and me around. They already pointed out the best place to get sandwiches and the cheapest place to buy ramen noodles.” 

I had to laugh at that; By had said he was not looking forward to the meal plan at school, so he had a feeling he’d end up eating ramen twice a day. “And how about Julio? How are things going with him?” 

I could hear the relief in his voice. “I was really worried about how we’d get along,” he said unnecessarily. I’d definitely known that. “But he’s actually pretty awesome. He saw the picture of you and me—I keep it right next to my bed, same as before—and said, ‘You got a boyfriend back home? I got a girlfriend back in Florida. Sucks being so far away, doesn’t it?’” He chuckled. “He told me that one of his best friends back in Sarasota just came out, too, so he kinda gets it. As much as any straight guy can.” I smiled. He was having an easier time with his new friends than I was having with my old ones. 

I told him all about the conversation I’d had with Oliver and about the plans I had for the school year and he told me about a couple of organizations he was thinking of joining on campus. We talked for more than an hour before we reluctantly hung up. 

I went out to the living room to join the rest of my family. Carol had put Gracie to bed while I was in my room, but she and Dad were watching television when I came out. “Have a good chat?” Carol asked. 

“Of course!” I insisted. “I have a feeling there’s going to be a lot of long talks like this one.” 

“We had that feeling, too,” Dad said. He and Carol smiled at each other. “Carol had a talk with Gracie this afternoon and she mentioned that you’d been looking to purchase a cell phone plan.” I nodded slowly. “We’d been considering the fact that you’d need a phone sometime in the near future. And although I don’t mind if you want to get a job and earn some spending money, I don’t think that your safety and security is something you need to be financially responsible for, as long as you’re in school.” 

Carol pulled a box out of her purse and handed it to me. “So…” she said as she watched me open the box, “We added you on to our plan.” 

This was better than I ever could have expected. Dad uses his phone for work and logs a lot of time on it, so he and Carol have unlimited minutes. I could basically talk as much as I needed, without running up the house phone bill any more. Or costing Byron a pretty penny like I’m sure tonight’s phone call had. “This is great!” I cried. I gave both of them hugs and took my phone back to my room to plug it in. 

I pulled a piece of paper down off the wall and looked it over. It was a list of phone numbers, started back when I first moved back to California from Connecticut. Some of the people had moved away, or changed numbers, and many names had been added to the list through the years. Not fifteen minutes ago, I’d added Byron’s dorm number to the list. I wanted it to be the first one I put into my phone. 

No sooner had I put it in than I called it. He was surprised to hear from me. “Guess what,” I asked him. We talked for another hour.


	3. A Slip-up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I've been doing so well all semester long. So what if we're only two weeks in?

My goals for this semester:  
Go to every class unless I am too sick  
Do all my reading before it is due  
Turn in all my homework on time  
Get 80 percent or better on all tests  
Find a study partner in all of my classes so I can get notes if I do have to miss class and have someone to study with

I’d been in college for about a week when my shrink made me write out this list. He didn’t seem to think it was that unreasonable a set of goals. To me, it looked like Mount Everest. 

I’d always kinda flown by the seat of my pants in high school. Reading assignments? I’d skim the chapter, looking at the headings, graphs and pictures to get the ‘main idea.' Homework? That’s what study hall or lunch was for. Studying? I’d have to be pretty desperate to study. I’m smart enough that I was always able to get by. 

Dr. Anton seemed to think that college would be different. More reading and studying and assignments, for one thing. So far, with a little more than a week under my belt, it actually seemed to be a lighter load. Maybe, with a little luck, it would stay that way and I could actually keep up with my goals. 

I was having the worst time with the last goal on the list. I didn’t really know anyone at my school, and although I’ve never had problems making friends, I wasn’t having much luck starting conversations with anyone. Most of my classmates weren’t really into stopping after class and socializing. 

Just as we’d suspected, Oliver was in my English class. I briefly considered asking him to be my study buddy—a term that he would have called ‘queer’ or worse—but I knew he wasn’t exactly what Dr. Anton had in mind when he told me to find a partner. He wasn’t really into studying and wasn’t the one to go to if you needed to copy some notes. If you wanted to get high or drunk, though, he was your man. So I kept looking. 

I’d been in school for a week and a half when I realized that one guy was in almost all of my classes—everything but poli sci. He’d just sat down behind me in algebra, my last class of the day, when I recognized him. He’d also sat behind me in psychology earlier that day. “Haven’t I seen you somewhere before?” I joked. 

He blinked, but when he realized what I meant, he smiled. “It’s kinda like déjà vu, huh?” he replied. 

We spent the last couple minutes before class talking. His name was Thomas and he was a year older than I was. He’d taken the last year off school in order to ‘find himself.’ As he talked, I looked him over. He was kinda cute—not as cute as Byron, of course—but tall and muscular. He always ran after his last class of the day because he worked nights. 

The professor came in then and began bustling around. Before I turned back around in my seat, I got up the nerve to ask, “Since we’re in so many classes together, maybe we could help each other out?” He looked surprised. “Share notes if we have to miss class or study together if there’s something one of us doesn’t get?” 

Thomas looked thoughtful for a moment. “That’s a good idea,” he said. I ripped a corner off the last page in my notebook and wrote my name and number on it, then handed it to him. He filed it away in a pocket of his binder. I turned back around just before the teacher started talking, breathing a sigh of relief. That had worked out to be easier than I expected. 

We started eating our lunches together in the student work room, spreading out our books and our sandwiches. Each day, we compared the previous day’s notes, making sure we both had the main ideas and adding anything the other had noted that we hadn’t. Thomas explained a couple of biology concepts to me, and I even straightened out a few psychology terms for him. 

In between working, we found some time to talk about more personal topics. He told me he had a fiancée he’d been dating for nearly five years. “We’re kind of secretly engaged,” he explained. 

“Secretly engaged?” I repeated. “Why is it a secret?” 

Thomas rolled his eyes. “Her parents don’t like me. They think I’m a corrupting influence.” He took a bite of his sandwich. “She decided that she wanted to take a year off school after she graduated instead of going to Stanford, which is what her dad wanted. I decided to take the year off with her. Even though she had the idea first, it’s all my fault in her dad’s eyes.” 

He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and flipped through the pictures. He turned the phone toward me with a photo of the two of them displayed. His fiancée was not your typical beauty—she was sturdy with a prominent nose. But she had a great smile and I got the feeling from the expression she was making in the photo that she had a firecracker personality. “She’s beautiful,” I said, meaning it. Not for the first time, I wished that I had gotten my phone before I went to Connecticut for the summer. I didn’t have any pictures of Byron on it, but I did have the next best thing. I pulled a well-worn photo out of my wallet. “I don’t have a fiancée—secret or otherwise—but I do have someone special.” I handed him the photo. 

Thomas’s face belied a moment of surprise, but he recovered quickly. “You guys look great together,” he noted. 

“Thanks,” I said as I put the photo back in its home. “We’re doing the long-distance thing because he’s at school in North Carolina. Some days, I have a hard time with it.” Byron and I had been talking on the phone a couple times a week and messaging each other more than that. I was still sending him an email every night, but there were times when he didn’t reply right away and I just felt a little lonely. 

“That’s rough,” he replied. “I think the longest I’ve ever been apart from Diana was when she went to summer camp a couple years ago. I don’t know what I’d do if I had to go long periods of time without her.” 

“We’re managing,” I said, sort of lamely. I was actually a little bit worried about Byron right about then. He’d only been in class about a week and he already seemed a little down about it. Whenever I asked him how school was going, he either changed the topic or answered very half-heartedly. 

But I didn’t really want to get into that conversation with Thomas right then. Instead, I turned a page in our English reading assignment. “I meant to ask you,” I said, drawing his attention away from my relationship. “Did you get what the author meant by this passage here?” 

*** 

Thursday of the last week of August we had our first biology test. We took the test and then headed into the lab, the professor promising to have it graded by the time lab period ended. I stared at my graded test, disbelieving. “How’d you do?” Thomas asked. 

“A 95,” I said, not sure I had read it properly. I’d gotten a C in biology in high school. “Pinch me. I want to make sure this is real.” 

Thomas actually obliged by pinching a hunk of skin on my arm and then grinning about it. “If that didn’t hurt,” he said with a smirk, “I can do it harder.” 

“That was plenty,” I said with a slight wince. I rubbed my newly bruised arm. “I just don’t usually get As on tests.” 

He laughed. “Get used to it, if you’re going to keep studying with me,” he said. “Thomas McCaffrey does not get mediocre grades.” 

I was still celebrating in my head when we went to lunch. “We have our first psych test tomorrow,” Thomas noted. “I have a feeling that one’s going to be way worse than the bio one today.” 

I nodded. I was _ready_ for that, too. “Want to go over vocab terms while we eat?” 

By the time we arrived at our English class, I was pumped. I could define all the vocabulary terms and I understood all the main concepts. I had that psychology test under control. 

After class, Thomas rushed off to work. I called goodbye to him as he left, going over my planner to make sure I’d written all my reading and homework assignments down properly before I left campus for the night. Oliver came up behind me and put his hands around my neck like he was going to choke me. “That your boyfriend you just said goodbye to?” he asked. 

I rolled my eyes. “No, dumbass.” I stuffed my planner into my backpack before he saw it and made fun of that too. 

Oliver let go of my neck and leaned on a desk. “We’ve been in school together all this time and we haven’t even had a chance to hang out. You got time to come over this afternoon?” 

I thought about the assignments I had due the next day. I had them all finished except one, and it wasn’t going to take me too long. I had a few hours to spend with an old friend. “Sure, why not?” 

Instead of following him in my car, I stupidly decided to ride with him. Oliver surprised the hell out of me by heading the opposite direction from where I expected him to go—he drove out of town, toward a cheaper neighborhood I wasn’t familiar with. “I finally moved out of my mom’s pad,” he explained. “She was always up in my business. ‘You can’t drink in my house!’ ‘Don’t you talk that way to me, young man!’” he mimicked. 

I sort of understood the feeling. I hadn’t been doing much of anything that should cause my dad or Carol grief, but I felt like they were constantly checking up on me—even more than Mom and Richard had after they’d paroled me from being grounded. “How are you paying for your own place?” I asked curiously. 

He chuckled. “First, it’s not really my own place. I’m living with my cousin and like five other guys. I get the couch in the living room.” He made a right turn down a one-way street where you were only supposed to turn left. I cringed. “Second, I’ve been selling some of the weed that my cousin and I have been growing. It’s good stuff. You should try some.” 

I grimaced as he turned into a parking garage after about 200 feet of driving the wrong way. I’d spent a lot of time high back around my sophomore year of high school—the last time Oliver and I had really been tight. I’d stopped listing it as my main pastime mostly because I figured out that I could get a much higher quality of girl when I wasn’t stoned. The classy girls at Vista didn’t mind if you got a little drunk every now and then, but they ran the other way if you offered them a joint. 

“No, thanks,” I said after a pause. Even though Byron was willing to forgive my personality flaws and my mistakes, I didn’t think he’d approve of me toking up. He’d told me that he’d never even seen a joint before, and trying drugs wasn’t on his ‘to-do’ list. He just figured there were better ways to have fun. 

“Suit yourself,” Oliver said mockingly as we exited the car. We walked through the garage and an alley before reaching a dirty, rough-looking apartment building. Most of the other buildings in the area were cleaner and much better maintained. Inside Oliver’s building was even worse—it smelled like pee and the paint was peeling off the walls. 

The apartment was three bedrooms and just about what you’d expect, given the state of the building and the fact that six young men lived there. Not a whole lot of cleaning ever happened in this place, I could tell. It looked much like frat houses in movies like _Animal House_ do, with beer cans, dirty dishes and even dirtier clothes on every surface. I’m not the world’s neatest person, but I would have had a hard time living like that. 

“Make yourself at home,” Oliver suggested, gesturing to the couch that I guessed had to also be his bed. It didn’t have quite so many dirty things on it. I swept aside his pillow and sat down on the couch itself, trying hard not to look too prissy doing it. I didn’t need Oliver making any more ‘gay’ comments. 

On the other side of the room, next to what had probably once been a beer can pyramid (but was now just a pile of crushed beer cans) was a huge television, equipped with every video game console known to man. “Oh, dude,” I said, awed, “You have the original NES! Sweet!” 

Oliver grinned. “We’ve got a shit-load of games for it. Wanna play?” 

“Which Marios do you have?” 

He headed toward the kitchen rather than toward the television. “Go take a look for yourself. We can play anything you want.” He disappeared behind a wall but continued talking as I hopped off the couch to look through the mess of games from Sega, Atari and Nintendo consoles. “You want a drink?” 

I thought about that for a second. When Oliver asks if you want a drink, he’s not offering you a cola. “Sure. Why not?” I could have one beer and be fine to drive within the hour. 

I lost track of time—and the number of beers—pretty quickly. I’d vowed to myself that I’d be home by dinner so that I could work on my poli sci assignment afterward, but when I looked at my phone next, it was eight p.m. “Whoa,” I said under my breath. I could still be okay for my homework—I had an hour between psych and poli sci to get it done—but I was more concerned about how I was going to get home. I counted the fresh beer cans around us—had I really had that much to drink? It probably wasn’t smart for Oliver to drive me back to my car or for me to drive home. 

I was debating waiting for his cousin—whom I’d met before a couple times—to come home so I could ask him for a ride when he strolled in the door with another guy. Both of them were as high as a kite. I only had one hope left—calling my dad or Carol to pick me up—and that wasn’t looking like a good choice either. I didn’t really want them knowing I’d been drinking. I finally gave up. “Yo, Oliver,” I said after he finished his level, “Any chance I could spend the night on the floor? I’d need you to get me back to school by nine tomorrow.” 

“No problem, dude,” he said, not taking his eyes off the screen as he maneuvered to the next level. “Tony!” he called to his cousin. Tony appeared out of one of the bedrooms. “We’re out of beer. You got anything stronger?” 

Tony rubbed his eyes. “I think there’s some Jack in Orlando’s room. He won’t care as long as you leave him something in exchange.” He headed toward the kitchen. “You got any guacamole left, Ol?” 

“Naw, we ate it all last night.” 

While they were discussing this, I quickly called home. No one answered—they tend to let the machine get calls after Grace goes to bed. I left a message saying I was staying at Oliver’s and would be home tomorrow after school. 

By the time I got off the phone, Oliver had found the bottle of Jack Daniels and poured me some without even asking. I set it aside, hoping not to drink any more. He noticed the motion. “Come on, man,” he said as he grabbed his controller again, “Don’t puss out on me. We’re having a good time here.” 

I was hesitant to even have a sip—I tend to overdo it when I start drinking hard liquor. “I’ll have some later,” I told him. “Let the beer do its stuff for a while first.” 

“Whatever.” 

I don’t remember drinking anything out of the glass, but I must have, because when we took a break to find something to eat, it was empty. Tony and his friend reappeared about that time. “We ordered some Mexican takeout. They’re delivering it in a few minutes,” he told us. 

Oliver looked satisfied. “Guess we don’t need to find something to eat,” he said. 

“Why not?” 

“Whenever Tony and Emilio get the munchies, they order enough for the entire floor to come in and eat some. We can just bum some of theirs.” He poured some more alcohol into our glasses. 

It turns out that Oliver was completely right. Emilio whipped out a fifty dollar bill that just barely covered the food he and Tony had ordered. Oliver and I were each able to eat an entrée with plenty left over for the other two. After we were done eating, Oliver pulled out his stash and started rolling a joint. “Schafer,” he said, “You want some?” 

By this point, I’d had more beers than I could count and three glasses of Jack. I wasn’t thinking straight any more. “Sure,” I said for the third time that night, “Why not?” 

*** 

The next thing I remember clearly was my cell phone chirping. I woke up on the floor of Oliver’s living room, lying on top of someone’s old jeans that smelled a little like barf, covered in a vile-looking blanket. I pulled the phone out of my pocket. “’Llo?” I said, not able to form a more coherent thought. 

I didn’t recognize the voice on the other end at first. “Jeff?” Thomas said. “Where are you? It’s ten o’clock. You just missed the psych test.” 

I sat bolt upright. “Oh, my god,” I said. I didn’t want him to know what I’d been doing—I was ashamed of myself, to be honest—so I lied to him a little bit. “My alarm didn’t go off.” It wasn’t a total lie. It didn’t go off because I’d been too high to remember to set it. 

“I thought it might be something like that. I covered for you with Ms. Yakamura, but you’re going to have to get right over here if you want any chance of getting to take that test.” 

I looked over at the couch. Oliver had had a lot more to drink than I had and I was pretty sure he’d smoked another joint or two after I’d fallen asleep. But he was my only shot at getting back to campus. “Ol,” I called, shaking him. “Dude, we overslept. I need to get to school _right now_.” 

He waved me off. “I don’t wanna go to school today,” he said, muffled by the blanket and pillow. 

“I don’t care what you want. I _need_ to get there, and you’re my ride.” 

Oliver pulled his keys out of his pocket and flung them in my direction. “Take my car,” he said, rolling over so that his back was to me, “I’m not leaving this couch.” 

What could I do? I took his keys and left, having no idea how I was ever going to get the car back to him. I struggled to remember the route back to school and even so, managed to get there within fifteen minutes. I found Ms. Yakamura, my psychology professor, waiting for me. 

“Sorry I overslept,” I told her. “It was a mistake, and it won’t happen again.” 

She eyed me critically. On the first day of class, she had told us that she didn’t give make-up tests or take late homework—she wasn’t in the habit of giving second chances. “Normally, you would just get a zero on this test,” she said, “but your friend Mr. McCaffrey said that you have been studying hard for this test and that you would have only missed it for a good reason.” 

I was embarrassed by Thomas’s faith in me. We’d only just met and yet he believed this much that I wouldn’t screw things up? Not only was I grateful to him, I was mad at myself that there were so many people putting so much trust in me—my teachers, Thomas, Byron, Dr. Anton—and I’d let them all down. 

I didn’t answer Ms. Yakamura; I just nodded. “So I’ll let you take the test and only take ten percent off for it being late. If this happens again, though, I will stand by my usual policies.” 

“Thank you.” I couldn’t believe she was going to give me a shot. I pulled out a pen and sat down with the test. It was multiple choice and fill in the blank. I read it over carefully and then started answering the questions quickly, one right after another. I handed it back to her within ten minutes. 

Ms. Yakamura looked surprised. “Already finished? Most of your classmates needed thirty minutes or more for this one.” I shrugged. I had actually remembered most of the answers, despite how I’d abused my body last night. “Alright, Mr. Schafer. Since you’ve finished so quickly, I’ll grade it for you right now.” She pulled out a red felt-tip marker and read over my test. I watched that marker carefully, and much to my relief, she never even used it. “Well. It looks like Mr. McCaffrey was correct. With the ten percent off, you have a ninety.” She wrote the number into her grade book. “You’ve been an excellent student so far, Mr. Schafer, and that’s why I gave you this chance. Don’t let it happen again.” 

“Thank you,” I repeated. “It won’t.” She nodded and I headed to the library. I pencil whipped my poli sci assignment so I could turn it in. It was a better job than I would have done in high school, but not up to the standards I’d developed over the past couple weeks. I paused when I realized that. I’d developed new standards—higher ones—in so many areas of my life over the past six months. For the first time in my life, someone called me an excellent student. And for the first time in my life, I was actually proud of being an excellent student. 

I’d almost screwed all of it up last night. And for what? I couldn’t answer that. 

After poli sci, I caught up with Thomas in the student work room. He looked me up and down and raised his eyebrows. I knew I must have looked like shit—I was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday, I hadn’t showered, and my hair was a fright. There was a stain on my t-shirt from the Mexican food and I’d spilled some Jack on my jeans. And I know I must have reeked of pot smoke. “Thank you so much for talking to Ms. Yakamura for me,” I told him before he could even comment. “I absolutely owe you one. She let me take the test and only gave me a ten percent penalty. I got all the answers right.” 

He smiled. “That’s awesome,” he said, then took a bite of his sandwich. He looked at me expectantly, and I realized he was waiting for me to explain myself. 

“I…I screwed up last night,” I told him. “I hung out with an old friend and trusted myself to be okay drinking. And I shouldn’t have, because I’m not usually okay drinking.” I took a deep breath. He was watching me intently. “It won’t happen again.” 

Thomas nodded seriously. “I’m not going to judge,” he said, “because I’ve been there and done that more times than I can count. We all make mistakes.” 

“Luckily,” I said as I dug some money out of my school bag, “Some of us also make pretty good friends. Ones willing to cover for us and forgive us when we do make those mistakes.” 

He smiled again and tossed his psych notebook at me. “Here are the notes from today. There weren’t too many because that test took up a lot of time.” He realized I didn’t have a lunch with me, and before I could go look at the nasty, sugary garbage in the vending machine, he also threw a bag of carrot sticks at me. “Can you believe some people actually took almost forty minutes to finish that test? And to think, I thought Ms. Yakamura was going to be rough. Turns out, she’s a big ol’ softie.” 

I opened the carrot sticks and grinned. “She sure is.” 

*** 

I went home after algebra, bound and determined to work on homework that night, even though it was Friday. I wanted to spend the weekend doing something productive—like looking for a job. 

I read two chapters for poli sci and one for psych before I needed a break. I took a look at the clock—six thirty. That made it nine thirty on the East Coast. I wasn’t sure Byron would be home, because he and the two girls who lived across the hall from him had been going out on Friday nights, but I decided to try him anyway. He answered on the first ring. “Jeff, you must be psychic,” he said, sounding enthusiastic. “I was just thinking about you.” 

“And obviously I was thinking about you. I didn’t think you’d be home, though.” 

I could _hear_ the grin. “Alizah and Jossie went home for the weekend, so I was actually just working on some chemistry homework. Awesome Friday night plans, huh?” 

I wanted to chuckle, but I found I was too serious. “I can’t judge that,” I told him, “because I just did some school reading and after we get off the phone, I’m going to write a paper for English class.” He laughed a little. “But I didn’t call to tell you about my homework. I wanted to confess something.” 

Byron sobered up very quickly. “Confess?” he repeated, sounding nervous. 

“Yes.” I took a deep breath. “This summer, you said you could deal with anything as long as I told you the truth. I don’t want to lie by omission or leave any details out, just because you’re on the other side of the country. If this relationship is going to work long distance, then I have to be completely honest.” 

He sounded even more fearful. “There’s not someone else, is there?” 

I suddenly realized I was building my story up so much that he thought I’d cheated on him or was going to break up with him. “Oh, By, no,” I said, trying to sound soothing even though I was still on pins and needles over telling him what had happened. “Not even close. But I did make a horrible mistake and it could have been very bad.” 

He let out a sigh, sounding relieved—at least a little. “Okay. I’m listening.” 

I told him every last detail, from the moment Oliver invited me over until I got the ninety on the test. He listened without interrupting, making little ‘hmm’ and ‘ah’ noises at just the right moments. Finally, when I was finished, he said the same thing Thomas had. “Everyone makes mistakes, Jeff.” 

“Yeah, I know that. But why do I have to make such monumental fuck ups?” 

“I can’t answer that one. I don’t know why I screw up the way I do, either. But you obviously know a few things now. Like, you shouldn’t drink on school nights.” 

“And I probably shouldn’t hang out with Oliver any more,” I added. That might be hard to do. It was part of the reason I decided to get a job—if I left for work right after class the way Thomas does, I would have a good excuse _not_ to spend time with Oliver if he asked again. 

“Maybe not,” he said. “I think the key thing, Jeff, isn’t to not make mistakes. I don’t think that’s even possible. I think it’s to not keep making the same mistakes over and over again.” He paused. “As long as you keep learning from your mistakes, I’ll keep forgiving you when you make them.” 

I sighed happily. I felt so much better hearing that. “I love you, Byron,” I told him. 

“And I love you. You’ll forgive me for my mistakes, too, right?” 

“Always,” I replied, realizing he was leading to something with that comment. “What mistakes have you been making?” 

Byron paused, and I realized he wasn’t ready to come straight out and tell me. I was sort of used to that with him. Sometimes, he takes a while to build to things. I get that, because I’m the same way. “Oh, lots of things,” he said, faux-lightly. “Can I get a rain check on explaining them all tonight? I promise that I will tell you everything eventually.” 

By always keeps his promises. “Of course.” Instead, we chatted away about more pleasant things for a while. After we hung up, I wanted to go to bed, but instead, I forced myself to write that English paper. I had promised Byron I would, and I wanted to keep my promises too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks go to LP and KC for their help in figuring out how to get past a little writer’s block. And for telling good “the time I got high” stories.
> 
>  
> 
> Next in _A Year Apart_ : It’s only _September_ and someone’s already regretting his life choices.


End file.
